


Claustrapobic Skirt Suits from Our Past (Both Literally and Figuratively)

by crazykookie, redhairvacantexpressions



Category: Ghostbusters (2016)
Genre: Clothing, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-18
Updated: 2016-09-18
Packaged: 2018-08-15 16:14:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 736
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8063191
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crazykookie/pseuds/crazykookie, https://archiveofourown.org/users/redhairvacantexpressions/pseuds/redhairvacantexpressions
Summary: Erin and Holtzmann make a change.Cute pre-slash story. Or, how Erin Gilbert stopped wearing the world's tiniest bowtie.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is a story written by redhairvacantexpressions and me at boba. Love ya girl!

Holtzmann lay with her head resting on her work table, her teased hair sticking up in her signature way, one strap of her work overalls fallen. She had pulled another all-nighter and had fallen asleep among her inventions once again.

"Hellooo?" Erin's voice trailed up the stairs and into the office. Holtzmann jerked awake, her vision fuzzy, but not fuzzy enough to miss Erin's claustrophobic green skirt suit. She carried two coffees in her hands and a brown leather bag on her shoulder.

"My savior," Holtzmann mumbled, reaching a hand out to take the coffee, not lifting her head.

"This is not a sustainable work ethic, Holtzmann." Erin sighed, handing her the hot cup of coffee.

"Yes, mom," Holtzmann smirked, finally sitting up to sip at the caffeinated drink.

Erin smiled at her, which surprised Holtzmann given her sarcasm. "Clean up your room!" she said, and laughed an awkward laugh. 

Holtzmann raised her eyebrow in amusement. "This isn't my room," she decided to add. "My room is under that lab table. You know that."

Erin's face transformed into a grimace.

"Don't worry, baby girl. I cleaned up the nuclear waste off the floor before I went to bed."

"Well," Erin cleared her throat. "That's good."

Holtzmann chugged her coffee. She tasted the chai spices and cayenne that Erin had remembered Holtzmann liked in it. "I love you," she told her. "You remembered the magic mixture."

Erin giggled (maniacally, Holtzmann characterized.) She chugged some of her own cup.

Erin looked up and then her eyes went wide. She sat her cup down on the workbench. 

Holtzmann looked above her, where Erin's vision had fixated. "What?" she asked.

Then Erin stuck her fingers in Holtzmann's hair. "Oh my god, your hair is so messy."

"Clean up my room, clean up my hair..." Holtzmann teased.

"No, this is the most ridiculous I've ever seen it."

"Erin, you're wearing a suit in a lab that smells like Chinese food and motor oil."

"And?" Erin asked. Holtzmann was happy to notice Erin didn't look as offended as she would have a month ago.

"And," Holtzmann rejoined, and pulled Erin's hand out of her hair. "Maybe a change will do us good." Erin didn't pull her wrist out of Holtzmann's fingers. Instead she gave her a suspicious look.

"Is this going to be absurd?"

"Hopefully. Absurd is the only way I like to live."

Erin gestured for her to continue.

"I'll stop being messy, Erin Gilbert, if you'll stop being clean."

Erin's eyes widened. "Okay so no like... heels in the lab?"

"Not even. No suits at all. And... you can only wash your hair every other day. If you did it for Columbia, you can't do it."

Erin rolled her eyes. She opened her mouth to reply.

Holtzmann cut her off. "And _I_ will live an Erin-approved life. I'll give this place a cleaning that would warrant a B restaurant rating. _And_ I'll eat a salad everyday. And I haven't eaten a salad since highschool, so that's sacrifice."

"Okay," Erin said. "I agree to your terms, Dr. Holtzmann. No go grab a broom. _I'm_ going home to change," she said proudly, turning on her heel and walked out the archway to the stairs.

Holtzmann watched her go, picked up the rest of Erin's coffee to drink in one hand, and a blowtorch in the other.

 

Later that day Erin returned to the office, tragic skirt suit discarded, replaced with a pair of MIT sweatpants she only ever wore in the safety and privacy of her home. She paired it with an equally frumpy t-shirt and her clunky running shoes. When she entered and Holtzmann saw her they both couldn't help but burst into laughter. 

"You washed your hair!" Erin observed of Holtzmann, who had replaced her baggy overalls with a sensible pair of trousers and a button-up.

"You removed that stick from your ass!" Holtzmann joked back. Erin rolled her eyes at her.

"I look like a bum," Erin said.

"No, you look comfortable." Holtzmann retorted. "But you forgot one thing." She retreated behind her work station and rummaged around her mess for a minute, finally pulling two very colorful things from the rubble. She turned to Erin and presented her with a pair of mismatched socks. Erin sighed and looked up at Holtzman who gave her a charming wink that made Erin's heart flutter.

"Fine," Erin smiled, taking the socks.


End file.
